


I Am The Driver And I Am The Hearse

by Tortellini



Series: Inktober/Fictober 2k19 [1]
Category: Barry (TV 2018)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Disassociation, Fictober 2019, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Inktober 2019, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Platonic Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, War, Wordcount: 100-500
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-24 16:03:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20910347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tortellini/pseuds/Tortellini
Summary: Inktober/Fictober 2019 Day 1: RingFandom: Barry (HBO)(Set during Ronny/Lily) Barry Berkman listens to helicopter blades and disassociates.Oneshot/drabble





	I Am The Driver And I Am The Hearse

Barry Berkman had had a crazy day but if he left it at that then he wouldn't be able to talk about everything else, wouldn't he? And he couldn't do that right now. His eyes throbbed. The spot where he'd been stabbed in his back stung--even if Fucches had said over and over again that he had patched him up 

(with superglue no less)

and honestly? Barry was shocked that he hadn't broken his nose. Or his ribs. Or like, an arm or something. Because his body felt worse than it had in awhile. 

He saw the car that he was supposed to get into. He could see Fucches in the front seat, and his friend was mouthing something at him, his eyes wide and bloodshot, hands still fucking glued to the steering wheel because of course they were. Barry thought he saw that little demon girl or whatever she was supposed to be in the passenger seat next to Fucches too. And the police were there, running into the store that had just been fought in, and there must've been newscasters or something because--

Barry Berkman closed his eyes and heard the helicopter blades. The ringing in his ears. And he heard nothing else.

He could stop and try to block this out of his mind. He could crumple to his knees and hit his forehead until he could focus on the mark the pain left rather than these thoughts--

_Albert Nyguyen, best friend, an easy crooked grin and a hand sturdy on the shoulder--the feeling of the never ending sun beating down on those same shoulders, sand blown hot in eyes--the thick smell of blood, so much blood, seeping through violently shaking fingers--_

if he was alone, if this was someplace else.

If he wasn't in a CVS parking lot. Wearing a hoodie he'd thrown on this morning. With Monroe Fucches yelling at him to get in the fucking car. 

He took a deep breath, and listened. 

**Author's Note:**

> please listen to 'Mr. Rattlebone' by Matt Maeson because the title is taken from the song AND there's a really good, emotional edit for Barry for it on youtube as well:
> 
> "Call me Mr. Rattlebone  
Holy ghost that haunts your home  
They don't know you like I know...  
Call me Mr. Rattlebone"


End file.
